


free the nipple, niall

by ymorton



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Casual Sex, F/M, Genderswap, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 05:04:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4208988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymorton/pseuds/ymorton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry wakes up as a girl. he and niall take advantage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	free the nipple, niall

**Author's Note:**

> tw for associating gender with body parts, though i don't change harry's pronouns 
> 
> originally posted on tumblr, july 2014 
> 
> come say hiya [here](http://www.ihavea1dbloghelp.tumblr.com) !

Harry crawls in bed with Niall at 3 AM, one Friday night when they’re somewhere in the middle of America. Illinois? Iowa? Niall’s not sure. Somewhere with an I. 

That bit’s not weird, really - Harry slipping into bed with Niall. It happens, especially when they’ve been drinking. Harry usually sprawls out wide, takes up too much space, looks over at Niall with dark drunk eyes, grins at him, slurs out something like  _looove you nialler_ , and passes out. 

One time he gave Niall a kiss, all booze-scented and messy, but Niall’s been deliberately not thinking about that since it happened. Thinking about it just makes it harder for his boner to go down before he falls asleep. 

So - Harry in his bed, that’s not the weird bit. The weird bit is when Niall wakes up and Harry’s - not there. 

Or, or - the Harry Niall knows isn’t there. 

Niall wakes up next to a girl, see. She has long tanned legs, dark wavy hair, and she’s curled up around a pillow, facing Niall. 

Niall squints at her in confusion. He had a few beverages last night, but not enough to justify forgetting a girl who looks like this, so - oh,  _god_. 

Harry must have brought her to bed. To Niall’s bed. Which is strange, though, because Harry passed out long before Niall did - Niall may have spent a couple or twenty minutes staring at Harry’s mouth and rubbing himself slowly through his sweats, just casually. In, like, a non-pervy way. Or a slightly pervy way. He was drunk, whatever. 

So how did this girl end up here? Jesus, Harry’s shameless. And - oh, god, she’s naked except for a pair of Harry’s briefs- the very pair he was wearing last night when he fell asleep, silky and black and - _shit_ , all tight around the curve of her full, round arse. Niall can’t see her chest at all, because it’s pressed into the pillow, but he’ll be able to in a minute. Which feels wrong. Not that- not that it’s bad, Niall’s sure she has a  _lovely_  chest, but - he doesn’t even know this bird. Like, not even on a one-night-stand basis. She never said, “Niall, you have permission to see my tits.” Niall likes a bit of permission. 

God. This is fucked. Maybe he should just slip out of bed, go down and get some breakfast and let Harry deal with it. 

Where is Harry, anyway?

He’s about to roll backwards as quietly as he can when the girl stirs. Smacks her lips - pink, pillowy, nice, not that Niall notices or cares - and opens her eyes. Oh. Green. Bright clear green. Niall lets out a little shaky breath. 

Harry fucks the fittest chicks. He really, really does. Niall hates him. A lot.

The girl smiles, easy and wide, her teeth white and straight like Chiclets, bright against her pink mouth. 

“Er, hi,” Niall says, propping himself up on his elbow. “I can clear out, don’t worry." 

"S’your room,” the girl says in a thick Northern accent, blinking heavy-lidded. Weird, that. Considering they’re in Iowa/Illinois/wherever. “Can we order breakfast? Mate, I’m a bit hungover, I think." 

She laughs sheepishly.

"Maybe, er, maybe you could wait til Harry gets back?” Niall says politely, even though he’s tempted to say  _god, yes, anything you want_. “Did he say where he went?” 

The girl’s dark eyebrows furrow. “What?” 

“I mean - Harry - did Harry say where he went?” Niall asks, a little hesitantly, and for the first time it crosses his mind that maybe this isn’t Harry’s bird - maybe it’s a  _fan_. Oh god, maybe Niall’s lying in bed with a fan who snuck into their room. 

Oh god. 

He backs up on the bed, and the girl grabs his arm. She has tattoos. She has tattoos just like Harry’s, holy shit, she’s one of  _those people_. 

“Niall?” she says. “Niall, you alright? You’re being weird." 

"Fine!” Niall says loudly, thinking of that film he and Cal watched last week, the one with the author and the crazy lady and the sledgehammer. Bleeding hell. Niall only  _just_  fixed his knee. ”I’m fine-“ 

“God, why’re you talking so loud, me head,” the girl mutters, scrubbing at her face with one hand, and then she sticks her hand in front of her and stares at it, eyes widening. 

She’s mad. Niall’s calling it now, she’s mad, and he doesn’t have long to live. 

“Where the-” the girl says, and then she sits up, flings the pillow away from her, grabs her tits with both hands. She has tattoos on her chest, dark ink curling out from under her fingers. “What the  _fuck_!” 

Niall’s trying very hard not to look. But god, this girl might kill him, doesn’t he deserve one last glance at a - oh god, the girl’s sticking her hand down her briefs, feeling around. Niall averts his eyes.

"What the fucking fuck,” the girl says, high and shocked, a hand still buried in her briefs. “Where the fuck is my dick?" 

Niall stares at her. “Your what?” 

"Oh my god,” she says, voice shaking. “Oh my god, what the- my dick, Niall! I don’t - and - my - oh my god, what the hell is happening?" 

"I don’t know!” Niall yells. “Where the hell is Harry?" 

"I  _am_  Harry, you bleeding idiot!” the girl screams back, eyes huge with panic. 

Niall’s mind works furiously, and he feels a hot curl of fear in his stomach, scrambles backward so quick he falls off the bed.  _Ow_. 

"Niall?” the girl says, poking her head over the side of the bed. “You alright?" 

"No!” Niall moans, rubbing his thigh. 

“Your knee?" 

"No, are you- who the hell are you?" 

"I’m Harry, you fuckin’ idiot,” the girl says, her hair hanging over her face, dark and thick. “Obviously I’ve just gone and switched bodies, or something. Gotten a new one. Whatever." 

"That doesn’t- that’s not a thing,” Niall says weakly. “Put your tits away, god." 

The girl - Harry, oh god, it’s Harry - grins widely and sits up again, her chest bouncing a bit. Niall tries very hard not to stare. 

"This is mad,” she says, feeling over her tits again with one large, long-fingered hand. Now that she’s said it, it’s all starting to piece together in Niall’s mind - the improbable Northern accent, the hair, the mouth, the briefs. The swallows tattooed on her chest, the laurels on her hips, all the ink scribbled on her arms. It’s all very - Harry. Except for the whole no-dick thing. 

No dick, which means Harry has a - 

“Mm,” Harry hums, and oh, god, he has a hand down his shorts again, his fingers moving. He bites his bottom lip. 

“Harry,” Niall says, whining. “What’re you doing." 

"I’m just - I just woke up with different equipment, mind giving me a minute to figure it out?” Harry says, offended, but he’s breathless, now, and he won’t stop moving his hand around in his briefs, fingers working under the fabric. “ _Oh_.” 

"Harry, I’m pretty sure you’ve had pussy more times than you’ve touched your own dick, so don’t bleeding pretend you-" 

"God, there it is,” Harry says, cutting him off, drawing in a deep breath. His cheeks are flushing. He laughs shakily. “Jesus, that’s strange from this angle. That’s so-  _ahh_. Holy -  _hell_.” 

"Get your fuckin’ hand off yourself!” Niall snaps, his own face starting to go red at this point. “Harry!" 

Harry draws his hand out, pouting. Sniffs his fingers. 

"First thing you do, course it is,” Niall mutters. “Have we considered that this is a big bloody problem?”

Harry drops his hand. 

“And can you - put a shirt on?” Niall adds, flapping his hand at Harry.  “Jesus Christ." 

"Free the nipple, Niall,” Harry says, idly groping himself. His tits are round and full and Niall can see the pink bud of his nipple under Harry’s hand, hard and tight. He really hates everything. Most of all Harry’s weird witchcraft tits.  

“This isn’t a joke,” Niall says - god, he hates when he has to be the serious one - and Harry looks up at him. 

“Yeah, I’m aware,” he says, sounding a bit sour. His voice is strange like this, still low, but in a raspy kind of way. It does something odd to Niall’s stomach. “I’m the one with no cock, alright, don’t tell me it’s not a joke." 

"What’re we gonna do?” Niall says, pitifully, shoving himself up from the floor to sit at the edge of the bed next to Harry. “Tell the lads?" 

"Not yet,” Harry says determinedly, putting his hair up in a ponytail. It comes out a bit wonky and sideways, but he’s good at it by now. “Okay. I’ve heard about this happening. One of Nick’s friends, apparently-" 

"I never have,” Niall says in disbelief. “Are you serious?" 

"Yeah!” Harry says, bouncing a little. It’s weird, the way his tattoos spread out over a girl’s body. The laurels curve a bit over his softer belly, and the swallows are dark and bold right above his chest. Not a bad look, Niall thinks, a little dazedly. Not bad at all. 

“He said it went away after a few hours, so like. Suppose we just have to wait it out, if it’s the same thing.” Harry unfolds himself from the bed, stands up, and - god, the full-length view. God. That’s - a lot. “Let’s not tell the others, we wouldn’t hear the fucking end of it. Only if it keeps on, yeah?" 

"Three hours,” Niall says, his mouth dry. He swallows. “If it’s still - like that - after three hours, we’re telling them. We have a show tonight, idiot, you can’t go out on stage like this." 

"Be kinda cool, wouldn’t it?” Harry says thoughtfully, looking at himself in the mirror. He turns around, touches his arse, rubbing his palm over the slope of it. 

Niall groans, fumbles for his phone on the bedside table to distract himself. “Haaaarry. Can you get dressed?” 

Harry won’t tear his eyes away from his own reflection. Which is fair, maybe. He looks really fucking good. 

“Yeah,” he says absently. “But. Wait." 

Niall looks up from his phone. 

Harry turns to face him. He’s not perfect, not in the way Barbara was the first time Niall saw her naked - every angle of her body flawless, her skin bare and smooth like a doll. Harry-as-a-girl’s got a belly, and his hips are soft and wide, and there’s a couple spots on his chest and dotting his forehead. His hair is greasy at the roots, and his shoulders are a bit broad, sort of hunched. 

But still. Still, god, somehow every bit of it comes together, makes Niall’s mouth start watering, perfect or not.

"What,” Niall says, faintly. 

“We’ve got a few hours,” Harry says, walking towards him, and Niall backs up automatically against the headboard, because when Harry gets that look in his eye it’s good to get out of the way, sometimes. “I mean -  _c’mon_ , we’re not gonna take advantage?” 

"You can do what you like, leave me out of it,” Niall says firmly. Harry always does this, has always done this. He teases, and he talks a big game, and then he never does shit. Niall’s left alone, at the end of the night. Jesus, the farthest they’ve ever gone is a drunken ten-second snog, and it’s not like Niall hasn’t made it known that he’d be up for more. 

That’s just Harry’s way. He throws attention at people, waits til they want him, and then moves on. Niall doesn’t blame him for it, not really.

“Nialler,” Harry says, dragging it out. “C’mon. You fancy girls. Fancy me?" 

Niall flushes. Maybe he  _hasn’t_  made it known that he’d be up for more, even with Harry’s original equipment. 

"Haz,” he says weakly. “I dunno if this is such a good idea." 

Harry shrugs smoothly, climbs onto the bed. 

"Don’t you wanna give it a test-drive?” he says, settling over Niall’s hips, curvy thighs to either side of Niall, boxing him in. “C’mon." 

And God fucking help him, Niall does. 

He grins for a second - Harry smells just like Harry on a morning after a long night, sweaty, sweet, sticky with booze. 

"This is mad,” he says, one last token protest, and Harry nods comfortingly, curves down over him and reaches for Niall’s mouth. 

His lips are soft, full, and Niall hums against his mouth, slides his hands up Harry’s warm back. Harry kisses like he does as a boy, all wet lips and eager tongue. 

But still - it’s different, it’s undeniably different, and on instinct, Niall slides his palms from Harry’s back to his front, cups his tits. Harry lets out a surprised sigh into his mouth, shivers against him, and Niall lets himself have a minute, just there. God. Harry feels incredible, perfect, like he was made for Niall’s hands. 

When he thumbs over Harry’s nipples they stiffen up and Harry groans, shaky in his throat. 

“That feels,” he says breathlessly, breaking off from Niall’s mouth. “-bloody incredible, do it again.”

Niall does it again, with two fingers this time- tugs at a nipple between finger and thumb, and Harry breathes out noisily against Niall’s cheek, shaky and ragged. 

“Fuck,” he says. “I’m - m’wet, Nialler." 

"Yeah?” Niall mumbles. He’s hard, prick tenting his boxers, so they’re two for two.  

“Yeaah,” Harry sighs, moving his hips, like he’d be grinding against Niall’s dick with his own, if he, you know,  _had one_  at the moment. “Yeah.” 

“Can I feel?” Niall asks, and he goes red all down his neck at the crack in his voice. 

Harry grins at him. “Pervert.” 

“Shut your mouth." 

"Yeah, you can feel,” Harry says, and he guides Niall’s hand down from his breast - slides over the curve of his stomach, soft and smooth, and into his briefs. 

God, it’s strange. Well - it’s not really. Niall might not get laid as often as Harry - that would be impossible, for most human beings - but he knows his way around a girl’s body. It’s just strange because it’s Harry, on top of him. It’s Harry, letting out a pleased sigh when Niall cups his hand against the heat between Harry’s thighs, pubic hair soft and curling against Niall’s wrist. It’s  _Harry_  who’s groaning a little when Niall runs two fingers up from his cunt, dragging wetness with it, and rubs him bluntly, right there on the sensitive bud of his clit. 

“Fuck!” Harry snaps, wriggling on top of him, his face gone red. “Fucking - careful!" 

Niall starts laughing, stilling his hand. “Careful?” 

"That’s - gentle, Jesus, it’s - god, it’s - ” Harry’s drawing in these shaky sharp breaths. “Be gentle." 

Niall gets his fingers wetter - god, Harry’s dripping with it by now, he must really want this. That maybe makes Niall harder. Maybe. 

When he touches Harry again, there, his fingers are slick and he goes slower, doesn’t press down so hard. 

Harry lets out a groan, shifting his hips. “God.” 

"Feel good?” Niall breathes out, his stomach hot with an odd sort of jealousy. God, what does it feel like, from that end? Niall can’t imagine. He’s had a finger up his arse a few times, but that’s nowhere near the same. 

“Yeah,” Harry mutters, not focusing on him, rocking his hips a little, so Niall’s fingers slip off his clit, then back on. “Yeah." 

His tits are bobbing in Niall’s face, full and enticing, and Niall steadies one with his free hand, licks at Harry’s tight nipple. Harry whines. 

"Alright?” Niall mumbles against the skin. 

“God, yeah." 

Harry’s skin is sweet, and the noises he makes when Niall gets a rhythm going, with his tongue and his hand, are even sweeter. 

"Finger me,” Harry says, soft and messy against the top of Niall’s head, bent over him with his legs spread. Niall can feel wet on his thighs from where Harry’s wide open, pressed against him. “Fuck, Niall, please. T-two, and then - your thumb on my - my clit." 

"Will you stop micromanaging, fuckin’ hell,” Niall snorts, grazing his teeth against Harry’s nipple as a punishment. Not much of a punishment, though, because Harry just groans shamelessly, breathily, and says, “Yeah, and do that, too. Keep doing that." 

Niall rolls his eyes, but like - he’s a team player, so he does as Harry asks. Two of his fingers slip in so easy, inside the wet heat of Harry’s cunt, and when he reaches up with his thumb to work Harry’s clit, Harry full-on  _moans_ , high in his throat like a porn star. 

"God, yes,” he gasps, rocking down against Niall’s hand, whimpering when Niall’s thumb slips right against his most sensitive spot. “Just like that, god, that’s fucking amazing." 

"Yea-ah?” Niall chokes out, tugging at Harry’s nipple with his hand, licking around his fingers until it’s hard again, then sucking properly at it, loving the way Harry trembles under him. “S’good?" 

Harry just whimpers. 

Niall likes it - loves it, really, making Harry get loud like that. With any other girl, this would be enough- hands on her tits and inside her, getting her off just like this. But it’s Harry, and Niall’s throat clenches tight for some reason, thinking about it. This is Harry. It’s different.

He takes his hand off Harry’s chest and gives his full arse a smack. Harry jolts forward onto Niall’s hand, whimpering again, shaky and surprised. The movement presses Niall’s thumb hard against Harry’s clit and the ensuing clench around Niall’s fingers is incredible. 

_God that’d feel good around my cock_ , he thinks, dizzily, and when he smacks Harry again Harry gasps, grinds down as hard as he can. Niall’s wet to the wrist and Harry’s starting to shake above him, needing more. 

"S’alright,” Niall gasps, his own chest heaving by now. “S’alright, love, Haz, I got you-" 

"Please,” Harry moans at the same time, pressing down, pulsing against Niall’s hand. “Please, fuck- more, Niall, fuck.  _more_ -“ 

"Fuck,” Niall grits out, and he pulls his fingers out of Harry, smearing him with wet, and grinds the heel of his palm against Harry’s clit.  

Harry whines, reaches up and twists his own nipple at the same time, like he  _needs_  that edge of pain - and Niall watches, dumbfounded, as he shudders and comes, clenching his jaw and gasping for air. It’s fucking gorgeous to see, stupidly hot, and Niall keeps his hand steady, lets Harry rock against him as he comes down. 

Harry opens his eyes, gasping, swallowing hard. Peers down at Niall with his strange, changed face - round cheeks and huge eyes and pretty, slick lips. God, he’s pretty all over. Harry’s always been pretty, though. 

“Fuck,” he says, shakily. “That was bleeding amazing." 

"Yeah?” Niall says. 

“Feels like I could do it again right now,” Harry says, a grin curling over his mouth, eyes wide and sparkling. “Fuuuuck." 

"Don’t rub it in, some of us haven’t come a first time,” Niall says, waggling his eyebrows a bit suggestively, and Harry looks at him, then down at his cock, a heavy weight in his boxers.

“Mm, yeah,” he says, tugging the elastic out of his hair, letting it fall in curls to his shoulders. “Mind if I take care of that?" 

"Go- go right ahead,” Niall gasps, as Harry tugs his boxers down, wriggles down the bed with his tits bouncing and round arse waggling in the air. 

“Always kinda wanted to suck someone off like this,” he says, all eager wet mouth and soft hair brushing over the sensitive head of Niall’s cock, where he’s leaked precome, sticky down the shaft. “Can you come, like, in my hair?" 

"That’s fucking disgusting,” Niall says breathlessly. “You’re disgusting." 

"And on my face,” Harry adds, undeterred, just as he slides the perfect bow of his lips over the head of Niall’s prick. 

“Fuck,” Niall chokes out, fisting his hand in the sheets. “God, yes, fine. I’ll come in your - in your hair, you fucking slag." 

Harry makes a pleased sound. 

"If I’m still a girl after this, you’re eating me out,” he says five minutes later, pulling off Niall with an obscene slurp. He gives enthusiastic head, Niall’s noticed, all loud and hot and not caring if his face gets messy. There’s precome smeared across his left cheek, and his lips are swollen red. 

“Jeesus,” Niall mutters, flat on his back with his hand buried in the long mess of Harry’s hair. “Jesus. Come on." 

"Say it,” Harry says, softly, jerking Niall off with his slender hand, breathing against the head. Niall needs to come. Very soon. And when he gets like this, he’ll say pretty much anything. “Say you’ll eat me out, Nialler." 

"God, fuck, yes, anything,” Niall gasps. “Anything. Just- please." 

Harry grins so sweetly up at him, like that’s all he needed. 

"Anything,” he says, to himself, very soft and pleased, right before he goes down, lets Niall’s cock slide wet and easy into the heat of his mouth. “Alright then." 


End file.
